How far we've come
by Republic-of-Yolossia
Summary: Prequel to red doll. Tino and Berwald have a big dream of running their own business and escaping poverty to make a better life for themselves and their son. Along the way they face starvation, disease, and the threat of the workhouse. Together, the two desperately try to keep their makeshift family together as stage slowly sets for one of the most gruesome killing spree of all
1. New year wishes

'Wow, they are so pretty!' exclaimed Tino. He and Berwald stood peering out of their tiny window at the whirlwind of colours exploding in the night sky. Lars, curled up in Berwald's arms, giggled and clapped happily at the display, not a bit frightened by the loud noises the fireworks made. It was new year's eve, the start of a new decade and Tino hoped the 1880's would bring him better luck than the 1870's had, not that the past two years hadn't been a definite improvement but they were still a long way off from their now shared dream of owning a toy shop and both were still haunted by all that had happened to them. Tino was still too thin and sickly-looking for Berwald's liking and Berwald himself could not get over his sister's departure, not that Tino blamed him; it was hard loosing family and Tino knew that better than anyone. Still, he wished his friend would be able to move on in life and look to the future, to Lars growing up. And Lars was growing up fast. At two years old, he could walk and even say a few words. Tino joked that he would soon be starting school, and getting a job and even meeting a nice girl and get married, which made both he and Berwald feel incredibly old, even though they were only nineteen and twenty two.

The taller man only grunted in response, continuing to gaze at the fireworks.

'Hey I bet if we could climb on the roof we could see them better,' suggested Tino, who then frowned, 'not that they are not nice enough here, I was just suggesting-'

'Ye could fall,' mumbled Berwald, 'don't w'nt ya ta hurt yerself.'

'Hey, no need to worry about me!' Tino chuckled.

'Still gonna,'

'How sweet of you,' said Tino, 'and I will always worry about you, so it would be best to watch them from here.'

Berwald gave a small smile in reply. Lars yawned and rubbed his eyes.

'Tired?' asked Berwald.

Lars shook his head, 'no.' he gave another betraying yawn.

'Time fer bed,' Berwald carried Lars to the shared bed in the corner and tucked him in, 'see? Ya can still w'tch the firew'rks from here.'

'Yes papa, night night papa,' mumbled Lars, who closed his eyes.

Tino chuckled, 'shame he's going to miss the New Year, and it is only in fifteen minutes time.'

'Eh, when ya gotta go sleep ya gotta go sleep, not good fer a little 'un ta be up so late' replied Berwald, returning to his position by the window. They talked for a while about everything and nothing, about their dreams and their hopes and the past two years, those wonderful years spent busy building, painting, selling, looking after a baby and just not being alone.

'Hey only one minute left,' exclaimed Tino, looking at his pocket watch. Together, they counted down the minutes, fifty seconds… thirty… twenty… ten… five… four… three… two… one…

'Happy new year!' cried Tino, hugging Berwald tightly as the sky outside their window exploded.

'May this decade bring nothing but h'ppiness,' he replied, returning the hug. He was glad his best friend could not see how much he was blushing. Who knows what will happen in the next ten years? Maybe he could work up the courage to admit… no, it was silly. Berwald decided then that he would never tell anyone about his err… feelings for Tino and they would be nothing more and nothing less than best friends. Not the happiest thought to start the new year off with, but as Berwald looked at the sheer joy on Tino's face, he found himself smiling too.

Maybe, just maybe, his dreams might come true.

…

Hello there, so this is a little prequel to 'Red doll' and it is just to fill in a few blanks and stuff mentioned in that story. It will mainly focus on Tino and Berwald's dream of owning a toy shop and how they achieve that but there will be other characters too.

I would recommend reading the other story first, just so you know what's going on and all…

By the way, I AM working on the next chapter of RD, it's just I'm having trouble with the words and stuff so I thought I would write this.


	2. Can't afford to lose him

May 1880

'Get your very own beautifully hand crafted toys right here ladies and gentlemen!' called Tino, desperately trying to make himself heard over the immense racket of people buying, selling or even simply trying to get to work, 'these will look splendid in your child's nursery I can assure you!'

A few people stopped to rummage around in the wheelbarrow he was pushing through the street and some even bought whatever plaything took their fancy. A couple had children with them, whom they allowed to pick out one, just one, cannot spoil them, whilst others bought what they thought their kids would like as a present. Tino took their money cheerily and made conversation with a few of them.

It was a fine day, Tino thought to himself. The sky was clear, the air cold and crisp and even the Thames didn't smell as bad today. He lifted the wheelbarrow up again and moved through the crowded street past similar people with stalls, wheelbarrows and trays. He bought a muffin from a boy with a tray and struck up a conversation with him whilst he ate.

The boy had light brown wavy hair, neatly combed, and amber eyes. He wore a little hoodless cloak over his clothes to keep the cold out and he held his head high, standing proudly and generally not looking like he fitted in at all.

'So how come you are selling these all by yourself?' asked Tino, 'where are your parents?'

'Over there,' he pointed at a brown haired, female staller in a simple navy blue dress selling all sorts of pastries and breads, 'would you like to meet her?' he asked.

'Yes, why not?' Tino smiled at the boy as he led him to his mum, who waved cheerily at them.

'Hey, mother, I made a new friend,' said the child, 'I do love making friends.'

'Good for you, Oscar,' said the woman before turning to Tino, 'nice to meet you. The name's Jemima. Wanna buy some bread?' she took his hand and shook it.

'Sure, why not?' Tino picked out a loaf and paid for it with a toy soldier, putting the food carefully in his wheelbarrow.

'Nice toys,' commented Jemima, inspecting the little soldier before handing it to Oscar.

'Thank you,' he said politely, pocketing the figure.

'Thank you as well,' replied Tino. Just then a man with curly blond hair turned up with a small child and an empty tray.

'Morning dear,' he greeted, 'just stopped by to refill,' he indicated to the empty tray.

'Mornin' honey,' replied Jemima, 'this is… sorry, what did you say your name was?'

'I didn't,' replied Tino, 'but my name is Tino, nice to meet you all,'

'Hello,' William handed the little girl to Jemima and lifted his flat cap in greeting before refilling his tray with muffins and bread rolls.

'Hey, would you mind if I left Lottie here with you?' he asked, 'I will collect her after I empty the tray but I need two hands to carry it and…'

'No problem at all,' Jemima smiled, kissing William on the cheek before saying goodbye.

Tino made a few faces at the toddler, who looked at him with a bored expression.

Jemima laughed loudly, 'yeah Lottie seems to be a bit moody today,' she joked, ticking the infant under her chin, the only reaction she got was Lottie trying to swat her hand away.

'She's adorable,' said Tino.

'Why thank you,'

'How old is she?' he asked.

'Three next month,'

'Three? Wow so grown up,' Tino waved his fingers in front of the child, who smacked them lightly. Tino chuckled, 'mine's two and already he's so hard to control.'

'Well they usually are,' laughed Jemima.

'Poor lad's a bit poorly at the moment though,'

'That is a shame; well, I hope he gets well soon,'

Tino nodded and smiled, 'well it was nice meeting you all, must be off now.'

'See you then,' Jemima waved goodbye and Tino continued down the street, shouting to catch people's attention.

…

Today was definitely a successful day, thought Tino as he walked along Victoria embankment under the warm glow of the electric street lights. It was early evening and a few people were strolling home, walking lazily along the river. This way home was slightly longer, but less crowed and more peaceful. He nodded, tired but happy, at the people who walked past then turned into another street, walking for a half hour before finally coming to the building where he lived. Slowly, apprehensively, he opened the door and went inside; carrying the wheelbarrow up two flights of stairs before coming to his room.

He hesitated before entering. What if he had gotten worse during the day? Tino sighed and opened the door.

Berwald appeared to have not moved from the spot Tino had left him in that morning: sitting silently on a wooden stool next to the bed where Lars had been laying for the past few days, sick with fever. Tino set the wheel barrow in the corner of the room and joined Berwald, dragging his own wooden stool next to the bed.

'Still no change then?' he whispered to Berwald, who shook his head.

'W'rse,' he sighed, 'broken 'nto a rash now.'

'Oh no,' Tino turned to the boy to find, yes, he had a fine, rough rash on his arms and parts of his face. The child was unconscious at the moment, exhausted by his fever. His red hair was plastered to his face, which was gleaming with sweat and he was shivering slightly.

'G't a sore throat too,' mumbled Berwald.

'Well I earned a fair bit of money today,' said Tino, taking a small sack out of his pocket, 'so we are that bit closer to affording a doctor,' he tried to smile reassuringly, but failed, 'we will get him better, Ber, trust me.'

'Thanks,' replied Berwald, closing his eyes and bowing his head, tears falling down his cheeks and onto his lap, 'ah jus' can't afford to lose him.'

…

A couple of days later:

'I'm back!' Tino called as he entered the room with two men in plain suits, both carrying bags of equipment, 'and I got a doctor.'

'Brilliant,' Berwald stood up and greeted the two newcomers. One, who was apparently the doctor, had dark hair and spoke calmly; assuring Berwald and Tino that he would do everything he could to cure Lars. The other, a cheerful-looking chap with strawberry-blond hair, who was the doctor's assistant, set the bags on the table and examined Lars.

'Hey, Tsvetan,' he said, 'the kid has a pretty bad rash all over and he's burning up.

The dark haired doctor, Tsvetan, thought for a moment, rubbing his chin and humming, 'check his throat, Alin, are there any ulcers?'

'Hey little fella I just need to see inside your mouth so you can get better,' Alin cooed, stroking Lars' hair. The boy nodded weakly and opened his mouth.

'There are a few,' he told them, peering down the boy's throat, 'tonsils are pretty clear though. The tongue's gone all red and strawberry looking too.' He looked at Tsvetan, 'most likely like scarlet fever.'

Tino gasped and Berwald buried his head in his hands.

'Hey, we will fix him,' Tsvetan assured them, placing a hand on Berwald's arm, 'Alin and I have dealt with cases like this before. We will give him all the remedies and medicine necessary. It would be best to shave his head too,' he told them, examining Lars himself, 'as his case if pretty severe, but not malignant, so be calm. Shaving will stop his head from overheating and any deliriousness that might follow. Keep the room well aired, with an open window and after shaving, frequently cool the head with wet rags and maybe we should move the bed closer to the fire, at least the end of it so his feet will be warm.' Tsvetan placed a hand on Lars' forehead and inspected his throat, 'well, I do not think leeches will be necessary…'

'Aww, that is my favourite part,' whined Alin, pulling bottles out of the bag, 'grains of nitre and acetate of ammonia, right?'

'That's the stuff,' Tsvetan examined Lars' chest and armpits for more rashes, 'we might also need to put some nitrate of silver solution on these throat ulcers too, could ya mix some of that up too, Alin? You remember the ratios?'

'Of course,' Alin rummaged in the bag for more bottles.

Tsvetan stood up, looking at Tino and Berwald, 'Lars will get better,' he told them, 'the fever could be far worse so he is pretty lucky, though it is unusual for such a young child to get it. Of course, really young children seem to recover better from it. Keep him bed-ridden for two weeks and do not do anything to cause a massive change in temperature for him, or he will get really sick. Wait until he is completely better before letting him outside again.'

Tino and Berwald nodded at this. Tsvetan stroked Lars' hair soothingly, singing softly in an unfamiliar language. Lars smiled before closing his eyes.

'Hey that was good,' commented Tino, 'what language were you singing in?'

'Bulgarian,' replied Tsvetan.

'Is he singing again?' asked Alin absent-mindedly, 'okay, so he has to take these every three hours,' he told then, handing the medicine over to Berwald, who nodded.

'Oh,' Tsvetan added, suddenly remembering, 'I have to say, Scarlet fever is highly contagious and there is a chance it will infect you too. Have either of you had it in the past?'

Tino shook his head but Berwald nodded, 'h'd it as a child,' he informed them.

'And you have not, then?' Tsvetan asked Tino.

'No, never.'

'Then it may be best for you to avoid contact with Lars,' Tsvetan informed him, 'and try not to come into contact with other people if you can help it, to stop this from spreading. If you start to show any signs of the disease, contact me immediately.'

'Of course, doctor,' replied Tino.

'Please, call me Tsvetan,'

'Of course,' Tino gave a small smile.

'Oh, and keep the child on a diet of watery, fluid food that would be easy on his stomach but full of nutrients, no meat or anything dry. And plenty of water too!'

'No problem, thank you so much.'

Tsvetan smiled, 'just doing my job.'

…

Lars grumbled to himself as he ate the soup in bed. His fever had passed and the rashes were starting to disappear, except the painful, itchy ones on his armpits, which he found out, to his disgust, were usually the last to go. He also did not like the light stubble on his head and missed his soft, ginger locks. Lars also missed running around and helping his papas with their work. But at least he had papa Berwald to keep him company!

'S'good?' asked his papa.

'Hn,' Lars grunted; he wanted real food, but didn't feel like annoying papa.

'Rememb'r ya water,' added Berwald.

Lars nodded and picked up the wooden cup next to him, taking a sip.

'Papa I don't wanna be ill,' he grumbled, folding his arms and frowning comically.

Berwald chuckled and patted his son on the head, 'hey, yer getting better, soon ya will be completely fine. Be happy. I defin'tely am.'

…

Okay second chapter. Well, I mentioned in RD that Lars once had a fever, which Tino described as being the only time he's seen Berwald cry. So I thought I would cover that episode in this.

Right, human names:

Jemima- fem!Australia

William- New Zealand

Oscar- Hutt River

Lottie- Wy

Tsvetan- Bulgaria

Alin- Romania

Please review, I would really appreciate it.


	3. What others think

June, 1882

Once again, Lars woke up to a feeling of being kicked. This was why he hated sharing a bed. So which one was it this time? Emmitt or Liam? Well, to be honest, they both looked the same. Lars doubted it was little Mary, or Michael, who slept like a log. Groaning to himself, he opened his eyes and sat up.

He was still getting used to their new home; though he couldn't remember much of the old one, he knew it had been bigger and less crowded than this one. But his papas had told him that times were hard and they couldn't make enough money and being mugged and pick pocketed on several occasions hadn't helped. So now they were living with a load of strange people in a tiny room far away from their old home; twelve people, his papa Berwald had told him, shared the room with them. He had also said that they lived in a place called the slums, and that he should always be careful of bad people when walking around. As a curious four year old, the idea of bad people never stopped him from playing outside in the streets just to get away from the crowd of people for a few hours. And what a crowd there was.

Most of the space was taken up by the Murphy family, a clan of Irish immigrants who came to England to escape the potato famine a generation earlier, who had five children: thirteen year old Michael, seven year old twins Emmitt and Liam, three year old Mary and baby Coleen, who was currently asleep in Lars' old cradle, which Berwald had lent to them. Mr and Mrs Murphy were a kind, jolly pair and treated Lars no differently from the other children, always telling jokes and stories and singing, with a few old instruments passed down the family tree for years. There was also Mrs Smith, a frail, bony lady in her mid-fifties with two adolescent daughters, Sarah and Anne, whom she tried to marry off to Berwald and Tino several times. Then there was old Mr Taylor, a veteran from the Crimean war, who was missing an arm and a leg, but still laughed and joked with the rest of them, entertaining the little ones with war stories (censored, of course) of how he nearly died on several occasions, including the infamous battle of Balaclava, but was saved by what he called 'an angel of the battlefield'. He was referring to Mary Seacole, who had treated his and other soldiers', wounds during the fighting. Lastly, there was Antonio, a Spanish immigrant, who had spent some time in France, who couldn't speak much English. Berwald and Mr Taylor were teaching him English in their spare time and so far he knew a few phrases. Lars liked him even if he couldn't understand him. Antonio seemed fond of the children anyway, and would always sing to them or play games.

Today, Lars decided to try to make friends. Sure, he sometimes played with the twins but they had to go to school most days and Lars was too little to go with them. So he usually wandered alone in the street outside for a few hours, fighting imaginary dragons and monsters or even taking a small toy or two to play with.

But today he was going to try to talk to the other children. He'd seen them sometimes, playing football or skipping and he felt too scared to join them, but not anymore.

Looking around the room, he saw his papa, Berwald, making breakfast for everyone whilst Tino loaded the wheelbarrow. A few of the others were still sleeping, though Mr Murphy, Michael and Antonio, who appeared to be missing, were probably already on the way to work at separate factories or mills. Mrs Murphy was giving the room a quick tidy before she, too, went off to her job.

Climbing carefully over the other children, Lars crawled out of bed and slipped into his waistcoat and shoes (he wore his shirt and trousers to bed so didn't need to put those on). He said morning to everyone in the room before accepting a chunk of bread and cheese from his papa.

Lars, all things considered, thought of himself as the luckiest child in the world due to the presence of his two wonderful papas. There was Berwald, who made him toys and food, who always played games with him, whose eyes always got those little wrinkles when he smiled. And Tino, who could always make him laugh with his jokes and who sang him to sleep in an unfamiliar language. Yes, Lars believed that he could live on the streets and he would still be happy so long as Berwald and Tino were with him… though he was pretty comfortable living indoors thank you very much.

'Papa can I play outside?' he asked Berwald, plopping himself down onto one of the wooden stools around the fireplace.

'Hmm? If ya want,' Berwald frowned uncertainly, 'but be safe, okay?'

'I will papa,' mumbled Lars through a mouthful of bread.

'And be h'me by the evening.'

'I know.'

'And only play in the street outside,'

'_Papa_,' whined Lars.

'Ah mean it,' Berwald looked at him sternly, 'no talking to strangers either.'

'Okie,' Lars beamed.

'W'nt ta take a toy with ya?' asked Berwald.

Lars nodded; maybe the other children would want to be friends with him if he shared a model or game with them. Toddling over to the wheelbarrow, Lars gave Tino a little hug and picked up a miniature boat.

'Bye bye,' he chirped, wandering over to the door. He left to the sound of Mrs Murphy yelling at her children to wake up.

'Are you worried already?' asked Tino, looking over at where Berwald sat, glaring at the glare, rubbing his hands nervously.

'Wh't happens if s'meone takes him away?' he asked, turning towards Tino, with a worried look in his eyes.

'That's easy,' said Tino, smiling, 'they'd return him.'

'Ah'm serious,'

'Look, Lars has grown up in this area,' reasoned Tino, 'the kid will be fine.'

…

Lars trotted along the dark corridor and climbed down the wooden stairs to the front door, opened it and walked into the street, taking in the early morning sun and labourers, grim faced, filthy and slouched, on their way to spend twelve hour shifts at their poorly paid jobs. Lars weaved his way in between them, boots hitting the cobblestone.

He found a large puddle left by the rain last night and crouched next to it, placing his little boat in the water and moving it in circles with his hand. He sat like that, imagining a ship full of sailors on a long voyage lasting years, travelling through thunder and storm and fifty foot waves before finally returning home to their families, for a good few hours, not noticing anything around him. Next, he wandered along the pavement, greeting the people he was familiar with and ignoring the ones he wasn't.

For the next few hours, he pretended he was a famous detective solving the murder of a wealthy aristocrat, looking for clues and going through all the suspects before deciding it was the butler who did it.

It was late afternoon when he spied a group of boys playing football in the deserted streets and decided to befriend them. Though he got along with the twins and Mary, Lars was never good with other children, but he decided to talk to them anyway. With that thought in mind, he went over to the small crowd.

They all saw him at the same time and stopped playing, staring at the new boy. Lars blushed slightly under their glares, but pressed on.

'Erm, hello,' he began, 'mind if I join you?' Berwald had always taught him to be polite, so he was.

'Huh? Sure,' replied one of the boys.

'Not so fast,' another, the leader, apparently, cut in, glaring at Lars, 'have I seen you before?'

'Dunno,' mumbled Lars.

'Yeah you're the kid with no mummy,' he sneered.

Lars frowned, what the hell were they talking about? All the boys were older than him and he was starting to get intimidated.

'No he has two daddies instead,' one of the boys filled in, 'what a freak.'

'That's so weird,' replied the leader, 'and not right.'

'Huh? What is wrong with that?' asked Lars.

'It's not natural,' explained one of the older boys.

'It's not?' Lars frowned.

'No,'

'So you can only have best friends when you are little?' asked Lars, thinking that was what the boys meant. What was so weird about grown ups having friends?

'You can have best friends,' said another boy, 'but you cannot marry other boys.'

'I know,' said Lars, 'but what is that to me?'

'Your daddies,' explained the boy, 'they're disgusting.'

'Papa Berwald and Tino are not disgusting!' yelled Lars, 'they are lovely and kind! Why would you say that?'

'Because they are!'

'And that also makes you disgusting,' said the leader, shoving Lars so that he fell backwards. He hit the ground, landing in a puddle. He couldn't help but cry, sobbing loudly and making the other children laugh cruelly.

'Why are you being mean?' he whined, clutching his toy boat for comfort.

'Because your family's weird and so are you!'

Just then, one of the smaller boys ran forward, throwing himself between Lars and his attackers before any more harm could come to the four year old.

'Come on now,' he said, 'that's enough.'

'Outta the way Peter,' growled the leader, 'this little shit gonna get what's comin' to him.'

'You're just jealous that he has a dad,' huffed Peter, 'and not only does he have a dad, he has two. I know I'm jealous.'

'Well of course you are, Peter my-dad-left-before-I-was-born Kirkland,' sneered the leader, folding his arms and smirking at the other two.

Lars looked up at his saviour, studying him closely. The boy was no older than six and had scruffy blond hair with dark blue eyes and quite large eyebrows. He was dressed in the same ragged clothes as the rest of the boys and there were no shoes on his feet. He glared fiercely at the older boy, hands balling into fists.

'I don't need no daddy anyway!' he cried, 'because I has a load of brothers and they're gonna beat you up when I tell 'em.'

'Shit,' one of the boys whispered into the leader's ear, 'they kinda big. We don't wanna mess with 'em.'

'Fine, but the little one don't got no brothers,'

'I have cousins!' cried Lars; well, the Murphy children were like cousins to him, 'and three of them are bigger than me.'

'Forget this,' spat the leader, 'well let's just leave piss-poor and baby homo alone. You're lucky, pricks, that you has people to fights yer battles for you! Or ya both would be beaten up by now.'

'Like I care,' Peter inspected his nails, 'you're just jealous my family don't live in a bin.'

'MY FAMILY DON'T LIVE IN NO BIN!' screamed the boy before marching off with his little gang.

Peter chuckled, turning to Lars and offering him a hand. Lars stared at it wearily.

'Come on, I don't bite or nuffin,' Peter grinned at him, revealing missing front teeth. Lars wasn't too sure if he was loosing his baby teeth or if someone had punched him really hard. He hoped it was the former.

Lars shook his head, getting up on his own.

'Why did you help me?' he asked, 'now you have no friends.'

'Oh, I has friends all right,' replied Peter, 'I was just hanging with that lot for a bit. 'cause I was bored. Didn't think it was too nice what they was doin' to ya, though.'

'I don't need your pity,' said Lars, glaring at him, 'or your help. Now I look weak!'

'Wha?' Peter blinked, 'hey we all needs a bit o' help now and again.'

'I don't,' Lars' bottom lip quivered, 'so just… just… leave me alone!' he burst into fresh tears and ran away, dropping his toy boat in the puddle.

'Wait, hey kid!' Peter called after him, but it was no use. He picked up the boat and wiped it clean on his shirt, 'you dropped your toy.' He mumbled, though Lars was long gone now. Peter stood there for what seemed like hours, but the other boy never came back. He hadn't even told Peter his name.

Eventually, Peter heard foot steps behind him and he turned to see Francis, his brother's friend.

'Oy oy,' he greeted, trying to sound cheerful, 'hey Francis.'

'Ah, there you are, little Pierre,' Francis gave a warm smile, 'your brothers were frantic with worry. Where have you been?'

'Sorry, got a bit lost,' lied Peter.

'Well next time can you tell us you are leaving?' requested Francis, picking Peter up and walking towards their street.

'I said I was,' argued Peter, 'but yous never listen.'

'Ah, sorry,' Francis chuckled, 'it does get a bit crowded at your place, yes?' Peter nodded, 'well maybe I should not stay for dinner so often, then there will be more space.'

'Nah, that's okay,' Peter assured him, 'mum likes you and so do all my brothers. You're like family.'

'Good to know,' Francis spied the boat in Peter's hands, 'and where did you get this?'

'Found it,' explained Peter, 'some kid dropped it and I want to return it to 'im some time.'

'How nice of you,' replied Francis, 'ah, I think I can see Arthur now.'

'Yay!'

…

Lars ran all the way home, only coming to a halt just before the door to his room. Tentatively, he opened the door and snuck in.

Everyone was present, thankfully, so Lars was able to slip in unnoticed. They all seemed to be in celebration, singing and dancing around the fire. Antonio was on the guitar whilst Mr Murphy played a steady beat on the Bodhrán. They all sang a folk song Mr. Murphy had taught them (except Antonio, who just hummed along), and chanted, chirped and sung together, some more in tune than others:

'…But I told me brother Seamus I'd go off and be right famous  
And I'd never would return again 'til I'd roamed the world wide…'

They all seemed so happy and Lars wished he could join them, but he felt exhausted and too upset to even crack a smile. So he just sat on the bed, wallowing in misery.

This did not go unnoticed.

'Lala?' asked Tino, calling Lars by his nickname, 'you're back already?'

Lars nodded and mumbled a greeting.

'What's wrong honey?' asked Tino, kneeling down so he was face to face with his son.

'Nuffin,' mumbled Lars, fighting back fresh tears.

'Berwald,' called Tino, waving at the man in a 'follow me' gesture before picking up Lars and carrying him outside where he could cry without he others seeing, which he hated doing. As soon as the three of them were out on the hallway, sure enough, Lars burst into fresh tears.

Tino held him tighter and Berwald ran his fingers through Lars' hair.

'What's wr'ng Lala?' he asked, concerned.

'The other boys were mean to me,' sobbed Lars, 'and they said nasty stuff about you and said you were disgusting and I was weird and they pushed me and I fell in a puddle and I dropped my boat.'

'Where are they now?' asked Tino, 'I think we can all agree they need to be taught a lesson.'

'N-no,' said Berwald hastily, 'tha' won't be necessary, Tino.'

'But they cannot get away wi-'

'Children can be mean, yes,' agreed Berwald, 'but two wrongs do no' make a right. In ten years time Lars will be set to inherit a tidy little business, if all goes ta plan, whilst they will be in the same place they are now, nowhere.'

'True, I guess,' Tino nuzzled his cheek against Lars' causing the boy to giggle. Already he was feeling better and beginning to forget his encounter. Why worry about what other people say when he had a loving family?

'C'me on,' said Berwald, opening the door, 'we're meant ta be celebrating.'

'Why? What happened?' asked Lars, allowing Tino to carry him into the room and set him down on a stool, handing him a plate laden with potatoes and bacon.

'Mrs Smith's eldest daughter, Sarah, is engaged,' explained Tino, pointing a thumb at the nineteen year old with a new ring on her finger dancing alongside Antonio and Michael.

'To who, papa?' asked Lars through a mouthful of food. The engagement would explain why they were getting meat with their dinner; everyone must have pulled their earnings together to buy it in celebration.

'The pie stall owner, who works outside the shop she works in,' Tino informed him.

'Ah, okay,' Lars said no more, continuing to eat his dinner. When he'd eaten everything on his plate, he joined the twins and Mary in a game of tag, running in between everyone's legs crying with laughter.

A short while later, Antonio excused himself to have a cigarette (as old Mr Taylor and Berwald hated smoking, especially around children) and collect some water from the local pump. A few minutes after he left, Berwald slipped outside into the hall for a bit of peace and quiet, if only for a few moments.

He was joined, much to his annoyance, by old Mrs Smith.

'Congratulations on Sarah's betrothal,' he said, trying to make polite conversation. It wasn't that he disliked the woman, because he didn't, it was just that there were times when he found what she said annoying.

'You know, Anne is still single…'

And her attempts to convince him to marry her daughters were one of those times.

'Still not interested,' replied Berwald, 'let Anne chose who she marries.'

'But you would make a lovely pair,' insisted Mrs Smith.

'Going ta have ta decline, sorry.'

Mrs Smith scrutinised him, glaring through thick glasses.

'You cannot have him, you know,' she said.

'Ap'logies,' replied Berwald, 'don' know what yer talking about.'

'That little blond one you're so attached to,' clarified Mrs Smith.

'Tino?'

'Yes, Tino,' Mrs Smith sighed, 'give up this foolish attraction; you cannot have him. It is not right and neither is it fair on the little one.'

'Lars?' asked Berwald, 'there is no-' problem? It would appear that there was a problem when it comes to the other children. And how did Mrs Smith even know about all of this? Was he so obvious? 'Fine, ah understand,' he glared at her over his glasses, 'but ah'm still not marrying yer daughter.'

Mrs Smith huffed, going back into their room. Berwald leaned back against the wall, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't understand how she knew. He had told no one, not a soul. Never admitting his lo- yes, it was definitely love, even to himself, fully. Maybe it was just that they were two males who weren't related but depended in each other that was so odd and not Berwald's behaviour. Or maybe Mrs Smith was trying to shame him into marrying someone he liked, but was not in love with. Anne Smith needed to find her own true love… like he had found his, though he could never admit it.

'Hey, I err… could not, err… help over hearing,' Antonio wandered up the stairs carrying a wooden bucket of water, 'look, she tries the same… bullshit on me, because I having… trouble learning English.'

'I see,' said Berwald, 'do you think she does this because she thinks we will be confused when communicating in a second language?'

'…eh?'

'Never mind,'

'I also… overhearing? What she said about you and Tino,' continued Antonio, 'and I err… understand your pain, yes? We are the same,' Antonio smiled brightly at this.

'You are homosexual too?'

'…eh?'

'You love male people too?' clarified Berwald.

'Ah yes!' Antonio snapped his fingers in understanding, 'I understand you now… so, err, do you think that we will… ever be able too… just be free? To show love to others? Without going to jail or being… in secret?'

'Who knows?' Berwald shrugged, 'maybe.'

Antonio seemed satisfied with the answer and wandered into their room, Berwald following a few minutes later.

'Ah, there you are Ber,' chirped Tino, pulling his friend into the centre of the room where everyone was still dancing. They had even produced a few bottles of beer, much to everyone's delight.

Berwald decided there and then that he was extremely happy with his life at the moment, and would be content spending the rest of his life with Tino and Lars, even if Tino never knew a thing.

…..

Well, seeing as Red Doll was at an important cliff hanger moment, I thought I'd update this instead. That, and I was having trouble with putting words into actual sentences because it is an important chapter and I got all flustered and tongue tied. Ah well. But updates for everything will be a while, as I have to revise for mock exams next week, so apologies.

Now, on to human names:

Peter- Sealand

Antonio- Spain

Francis- France

And all the other characters were ones I made up for the story, not actual Hetalia characters.

Now, historical notes:

The potato famine in Ireland in the 1840s wiped out one million people and led to another million emigrating to either America or England.

The Crimean war was in the late 1850s and was between the Ottoman Empire, Britain, France and Sardinia against Russia, and happened in the Crimea (part of modern day Ukraine). The war more or less highlighted military failures on both sides and led to many reforms, uncluding the emancipation of the serfs in Russia, which led to Ivan and his sisters' story in RD.

Mary Seacole was a Jamaican nurse to travelled to the Crimea to help sick and wounded soldiers in the war, after being rejected by Florence Nightingale. She set up a hotel to raise funds and would even treat soldiers on the battlefield. Seriously, look up this woman's life story; she's really inspirational.

A Bodhrán is an Irish drum a bit like a tambourine. They were actually invented in the 1920s but I'm guessing there were a few basic ones around before that.

And the lyrics are from the Irish folk song Mursheen Durkin, which is a pretty good tune.

Oh, and Francis calls Peter Pierre because it's the French equivalent of Peter.

I think that is it.


	4. Life's too short

June, 1883

_Tino stumbled through dingy, dark, wooden corridors, carrying Lars in one arm and holding Berwald's hand with the other. Ahead of them, a grim housemaid trotted hurriedly, leading them to their dreaded destination. Somewhere in the distance, Tino could hear the pained moans and cries of the inmates; Lars heard them too and whimpered, burying his face in his father's shirt. The kid's eyes were still shining bright, even though his face had been worn down by starvation, just like the two adults' ones. Stick-like arms poked out of ragged sleeves and it killed Tino to see him like this, so frail and emaciated. And it killed Berwald to see them both like that, even though the guy was in a similar way. But he never did care for his own well-being, only those around him._

_Lars could sense his parents' fear, Tino realised, trying to remain calm and level-headed, pushing the rising terror inside of him back down. He licked his dry lips nervously, but only succeeded in making them bleed. He looked up at his companion for reassurance but found that Berwald was just as scared as they were, maybe more so. His face was as blank as ever but Tino could see the fear in his eyes. Even so, Berwald squeezed his hand for comfort._

'_S'gonna be alright,' he assured him, 'we'll explain ta them…'_

'_No talking,' snapped tha maid, opening a large door and entering the room inside; Berwald and Tino exchanged nervous glances before following._

_They stood before a row of stern, well-fed, judging officials as they explained their situation and made their case, pleading for indoor relief. The officials listened and began conferring amongst themselves when the pair had finished. The oldest, a finely dressed man, nodded and Tino smiled weakly. But he felt his expression turn to one of horror when one of the maids stepped forward to take Lars. She had a kind smile but Tino didn't trust her, or any of them, with his baby; they did not care for him. They would not be able to provide him with love and affection. He shook his head, holding Lars closer whilst Berwald tried to reason with the officials, who just shook their heads without a hint of compassion or shame in their eyes._

'_You can't have him,' cried Tino, backing away. Lars was crying now and he turned to run, hoping Berwald would follow. They would just have to take their chances outside. But before he could leave, though, a hand grabbed his shirt, pulling him backwards. Then another grabbed his arm, and another grabbed his ankle until a small army of hands, though they felt like claws now, were pulling him downwards. He looked around, desperately trying to find Berwald but he was not there, though Tino could hear him shouting. In his moment of distraction, Tino's grip on Lars loosened and the boy was dragged away from him. Tino cried out, trying to break free of the arms holding him down but they were too strong. Where was Lars? Where was Berwald?_

_He could hear his name being called before he passed out…_

…

'Tino… Tino wake up!'

Tino woke with a start, trying to sit up but finding he couldn't, eyes darting around the room, he found his roommates pinning him down in his bed on the floor, Mrs Murphy's hand over his mouth to stop him screaming. He realised he was in his room and calmed down, so it was just a dream…

'Tino?' Tino looked up to find Berwald kneeling over him with an expression of concern, 'di'ya have a nightm're again?'

Tino nodded, still slightly dazed. So he was in the tiny room he called home surrounded by friends…

He was not in the workhouse. None of them were.

'Ah think ye can let go now,' suggested Berwald, glaring at everyone who was still pinning Tino down. They quickly removed their hands and Tino sat up, looking around to confirm his whereabouts and pulling Berwald into a tight hug for comfort, shaking slightly.

'They tried to take you both away from me,' he whispered, 'and I couldn't do anything.'

He felt Berwald's muscles tense, then a rough hand began rubbing his upper back, 'know you'd never l't that happen,' he comforted, 'yer too strong to not do 'nythin' in reality…'

'You're right… I think…'

'Papa?' Tino looked down to find a five-year old Lars staring up at him with concern in his eyes, 'why are you sad?'

Tino didn't reply immediately, instead pulling Lars onto his lap and cuddling up to him and Berwald before finally answering, 'just had a bad dream,' he reassured the child, who just nodded.

'Okay people we have a busy day today,' Mr Murphy told everyone, clapping his hands to get their attention, 'remember to work real hard today to get more beer-vouchers fer tonight,' they were all planning to go out for the evening to celebrate Mrs Smith's daughter's first pregnancy, and her second daughter's engagement. Well, Tino, Berwald and Antonio were mainly celebrating the fact that Mrs Smith could no longer try to set them up with her offspring.

'Right you are!' exclaimed Tino, standing up and pulling on his waistcoat, 'so we should all meet back here at seven then?'

'Grand,' Mr Murphy grinned, pulling on his coat.

'Up with ye!' cried Mrs Murphy, shaking her children, who had tried to go back to sleep after being woken by Tino, awake, 'come on or you'll be late for work and school!'

The little ones groaned and sat up before slowly climbing out of their bed, one of only two beds in the room, the other of which was shared by Mrs Smith and Mr Taylor, whom, being elderly, needed somewhere comfier than the floor to sleep.

'So where shall we go to from here?' asked Mr Taylor, sitting up in his bed. He was unable to get a job, being elderly and disabled, so usually stayed at home to look after the smaller Murphy children (and Lars) and keep Mrs Smith company.

'The Red Ruby?' suggested Antonio.

Berwald shook his head, 'n't very family friendly,' he explained, 'no good fer the childr'n,'

'Ah, okay,' Antonio nodded to show he understood.

'What about that little one a few roads down?' suggested Tino, 'you know, the one we all pass on our way to the main street?'

'Seems like a d'cent place,' agreed Berwald.

'That settles things,' finalised Mr Murphy, 'now if you excuse me, that bank's not gonna build itself. Come on Mickey,' Michael nodded, pulling on his jacket and boots before following his father out the door. Anne Smith said goodbye before she too left for work.

'Best get an early start too,' said Tino, tipping a few completed toys into the wheelbarrow.

'C'rse,' Berwald was about to stand up when he was tackled by Lars.

'Rawr! Gotchu!' he cried.

Berwald smiled, 'ah do ya don't!' he cried, playing along. He pulled Lars off of him and the kid pretended to fight back.

'Yer a big scary dragon and ima fight yoo!' he yelled, brandishing an imaginary sword and shield.

'Grrr,' Berwald raised both his hands, pretending they were claws, 'gonna eat ya!'

Lars squealed and dived, head butting his father lightly in the stomach.

'Argh,' Berwald gave a strangled cry, 'ya got me!' he fell on his back, waving his arms feebly, as Lars punched the air in victory. The four younger Murphy children decided to join in, piling themselves on top of Berwald so he couldn't move. Even Antonio crawled over, tickling everyone and causing them to burst into fits of giggles.

'Hey yer man's pretty good with little ones,' commented Mrs Murphy, chuckling, as she wandered over to where Tino was standing.

'My man?' questioned Tino.

'Ya, yer friend,' clarified Mrs Murphy.

'Oooh,' Tino gave a bright smile, 'yes he adores little ones.'

'I can see that,' Mrs Murphy laughed, 'ah well, best be off now-LIEM DON'T KICK THE MAN!' she cried, rushing over to Berwald and pulling one of the twins off of him.

'Thanks,' gasped Berwald, sitting up, causing all of the children to tumble to the floor, where they rolled around, continuing to giggle.

'Okay, we should be going to work now, right?' asked Antonio, standing up and brushing himself off, 'adios then.'

'See ya,' Tino put on his hat and picked up Lars, placing him gently into the wheelbarrow. Though the memories of the dream were long faded away by now, he decided he didn't want the kid out of his sight today. He pushed the wheelbarrow through the front door, Berwald following behind.

…

'Well this _is_ nice,' commented Tino, looking around. They were all seated around a table in a little pub. There were a few other families at other tables and a couple of lone blokes slouched at the bar. On the small stage in the corner, a cheerful blond sang an out of tune shanty with a charming voice; his accent indicated he was French. Tino absent-mindedly watched as he dragged another man out of his chair and onto the stage, much to the apparent amusement of the others seated there. A battered guitar was thrown into the second man's arms and he tentatively began to play a tune, glaring at the first man.

'_Ho-hey and up she rises,_

_Ho-hey and up she rises,_

_Ho-hey and up she rises,_

_Early in the morning!'_

The second man, another blond with rather large eyebrows, started to crack a smile and join in with the singing and dancing, earning shouts of approval from the group at his table.

'Good on ya Arthur!'

'Real smooth Francis!'

The first man, Francis, laughed and gave a small bow before starting a new song, a slower one in French this time.

Tino chuckled to himself and turned to face his own companions. Young Sarah was sitting with her husband, cradling the bump showing through her dress. Her little sister sat next to her, talking excitedly with her new fiancé.

'Yeah, tis nice,' replied Berwald, who was seated next to him. Lars and the other children were playing under the table and Tino could hear the occasional giggle coming from their direction.

''Nother drink?' asked Berwald, indicating to Tino's empty glass.

'Yes please, need any money?'

'Nah, m'fine,' Berwald had made enough that day to spend on a few drinks and snacks, which was a good thing as he did not want to have to dig into the money he'd been saving in the bank. That was for buying their own property.

He picked up their glasses and headed over to the bar. While he waited to be served, he saw one of the men who had been singing on the stage sitting next to him. It was the bloke with shorter hair, Arthur, if he recalled correctly. He stared intently at his own glass, looking pretty miserable.

'Hey, y'alright?' inquired Berwald.

Arthur looked up, and shook his head.

'Wanna talk 'bout it?'

'Yeah, why not?' he sighed, 'ever felt like your family was drifting away from you?'

'Sometimes…'

'Mine are,' Arthur took a long drink of rum, 'my older siblings, they're leaving to go up north and I'm left caring for my littlest brother.'

'Well why don't ya go with them?' asked Berwald.

'Don't wanna, not interested, besides, someone has to stay here with mum.'

'Ah, well I'm guessing she would not like the journey then.'

'Probably not,' agreed Arthur, 'we only buried her this morning.'

Berwald blinked, why would this person and his family be in a public house drinking and singing on the day of a loved one's funeral?

'Err, sorry ta hear,' he tried.

'I know it sounds bad,' said Arthur, as if he was reading Berwald's mind, 'but she died months ago, so we've had time to adjust, well, enough to not feel like dying anymore. Police wouldn't let us bury her cause of some investigation… sommin' bout pipes…'

'Ah, what caused it, if ah may ask…?'

'King Cholera,' replied Arthur, tears forming in his eyes, 'bloody tragedy, that's probably why everyone wants to leave, it's too painful to stay. But I don't want her to be alone…'

Berwald didn't know how to comfort the man, so awkwardly patted his back.

'Ts'hard, losing family,' he murmured.

'And you know because…?'

'M'sister passed away few years back,' Berwald informed him.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' replied Arthur, 'were you close?'

'The closest,' Berwald closed his eyes and pictured her face, 'we were twins. She 'nd her husband were killed in a carriage accident. Her son's all ah've left 'f her,' he pointed to where Lars was running, dragging a little toy on a string behind him.

'Cute kid,' commented Arthur, 'can't be much younger than my Peter,' he pointed a thumb in the direction of his own table, where a boy of about seven was sitting on one of his brothers' lap.

'Adorable,' Berwald gave a small smile, 'well, ah wish ye the best of luck, stay strong, kay?'

Arthur nodded, 'you too, chap.'

Berwald returned to his table at the same time as Arthur. He glanced over to find the man putting his arm around the shoulder of a girl a little older than him, his sister, maybe? Berwald wasn't surprised; their conversation had made him decide to write to his parents. He owed them a letter and life was just too shirt to lose contact.

'Hey you were a while,' commented Tino, 'someone try to mug you?'

Berwald shook his head, 'just talkin'.'

'Well good thing you got here in time,' Mr Taylor informed them, 'we're all taking bets on what the baby's gonna be called.'

Antonio nodded, slinging an arm around Sarah's husband.

'You want to name him after me, right?' he hinted.

Sarah laughed, 'nice try Toni but we don't even know the gender yet!'

'Well if it's a boy, then you call it Antonio!'

'We'll see,' Sarah's husband assured him.

'And if it's a girl?' inquired Tino.

'Dunno yet,'

'Astrid,' Berwald blurted out, 'what about Astrid?'

Sarah considered this for a few moments, 'hmm, nice name, Swedish, right?'

Berwald nodded.

'You knew someone called Astrid, right?' Sarah guessed.

Another nod.

'Well I like it,' exclaimed Sarah's husband.

'I do to, what say you, mother?'

Old Mrs Smith nodded, 'yes it does have a certain ring to it.'

'Definitely in the running then,' promised Sarah.

Tino smiled at his friend; it was not like him to get involved in group discussion so it was nice to watch him talk with others. Then a thought hit him.

'Wasn't Astrid your sister's name?'

…

Hey another chapter! Now, I was wondering how everyone would feel about me uploading chapters of different stories, like one's I've started and have plots for but haven't been writing much, just to see if you all like them? I have first chapters written up for a Spamano one and a Micro nations one. Would anyone be interested in reading those?

And I have started the next chapter of Red Doll, and I know what's gonna happen, I'm just having trouble finding words so bear with me on that.

Anyway, please review/fave etc because they mean a lot!


	5. Moving on

_1884_

…

'Will you just look at this place!' exclaimed Tino, standing in the middle of the large room, 'it's huge! I never thought I'd ever live in my own house and now look!'

Berwald smiled to himself, setting Lars down on the wooden floor so the boy could run around his new home. The six year old made for the stairs at once, desperate to see the rest of the place.

'Hey let's check the upper floor too,' suggested Tino, beginning to follow his son.

'In a m'ment,' replied Berwald, making his way towards the front door, 'gotta bring in the rest 'f our things first. Y'go on ahead; I'll catch up.'

'Oh, let me help you,'

'Nah, s'fine,' Berwald smiled at his friend, 'ah know how excited you are 'bout this place.'

'Thank you,' Tino grinned widely and bounded up the stairs.

Berwald dragged in boxes of clothes, old books, newspapers and toys piled in the street and set them carefully down in the room, thinking up plans for the shop. He would have to build shelves, standing ones that could create aisles and ones for the wall too. He would have displays of their best creations in the windows to attract customers and he was sure Tino could paint a colourful sign for the outside. He also made plans to build a counter and buy an old till from somewhere; they could display models there too, little ones. And maybe, if Tino wanted, he could do a few paintings to hang on the walls to sell and use as decoration. Lars could help out too, Berwald decided, with the cleaning and shelving. Maybe, if they earned enough, they could also hire more help, maybe even they all could set up sister shops in other cities and eventually become a massive company.

Berwald shook his head. He was thinking way too much into the future. Money was a bit short now, seeing as most of their savings had been put into buying this place and right now it was important to just get this shop on its feet, lest they end up in poverty once again.

Once he was sure all their things were safely inside, Berwald locked the front door, in case of thieves, and followed his family upstairs. As he wandered through the first floor hall, he ran into Tino.

'Hey Berwald this place has a separate kitchen and sitting room,' the other man exclaimed excitedly, 'I've never even seen that before! Hey, do you think you'd be able to make a dining table for us all to eat on? It'd be nice to have one of those…'

'F'course,' Berwald's chest swelled with pride, 'my father taught me how to when I was little. Gonna, make all kinds of things for ye to m'ke the place nice fer you 'nd Lars.'

'I'll help!' exclaimed Tino, taking his hand and leading him through a door, 'look, here's the sitting room. Can you imagine the three of us all curled up on the settee together in front of the fire? Maybe we could get some books from the library and teach Lars to read and get him into the local school. Oh, maybe we could decorate the place; I have plenty of cheap ideas that'll make the place look like a real family home.'

'Sounds… nice,' Berwald smiled; he could just picture himself lying on a soft settee next to Lars and Tino, reading a story to his son. He and Tino would look like a real married couple with a child of their own. Maybe they could be a real couple one day…

'Great,' Tino's eyes widened as his felt and heard his stomach rumble, 'hmm, I think it might be time for lunch. I'll see if there are any shops that sell food on this road and maybe even stock up for the week. Those cupboards in the kitchen look pretty empty, which makes me feel a little sad. Hmm, I think I saw a bakery a few doors down.'

'Okay, have fun,'

'I will,' Tino walked into the hallway as Lars came running down the stairs.

'Papa Tino!' he cried, 'there are three bedrooms!'

'I know,' Tino chuckled, 'so there's one for each of us.'

'Really?' Lars' mouth fell open and his eyes widened, 'a whole room to myself? Oh wow I've never had a bed to myself let alone a bedroom!' he ran back up the stairs, probably to pick which room was to be his.

Tino smiled to himself before making his way outside.

The street outside was crowded with people rushing about and Tino almost got swept away in the crowd. Undeterred, he pressed on in the direction of the bakery.

He found the little building, after pushing past a man selling fruits, and entered, taking in the warmth coming from the ovens in the kitchen. He took his place in the queue and waited for his turn. When he got to the front, Tino was greeted by a familiar face.

'Jemima?' he stared at the woman in front of him in disbelief, 'is that you?'

'Hey Tino,' cried the cheerful women, slapping him on the back, 'haven't seen you in a while. How are ya? Where's ya wheelbarrow?'

'Don't need it now I have a shop,' replied Tino.

'You too?' Jemima grinned widely, 'well it looks like dreams are coming true all over the place. Do you like my little business? Family run, of course. Hey, how's your little boy?'

'Oh he's fine now,' replied Tino, 'fit as a fiddle, thankfully. He's six now.'

'Six?' gasped Jemima, 'how big. Mine are seven and ten.'

'Really? I'm sure they're lovely kids,'

'Oh they are,' Jemima turned around, 'hey Oscar! Get out here now!' she called.

Her oldest, the boy Tino remembered meeting four years ago, wandered into the room, 'ho hum?'

'Oscar, be polite and say hello to Mr Tino,'

'How do you do?' the boy politely waved.

'Good, nice to see you,' Tino waved back.

'So,' began Jemima, turning back to her friend, 'what'll it be today?'

…

Peter dangled his legs over the side of the docks, watching the boats around him bobbing up and down. He wrapped his jacket tighter around him and unwrapped the newspaper on his lap containing his fish and chips, his favourite food of all time. Arthur sat down next to him, opening his own newspaper bundle and scoffing a couple of chips before turning to his little brother.

'Oh come on lad, why aren't you eating?' he asked, 'I thought you liked getting food from the chippy.'

'Yeah, but…' Peter's bottom lip quivered. He was eating his favourite food in St Katherine's dock, his favourite place with his favourite person, so why did he feel so sad.

_Oh, that's right…_

'Well, I ain't gonna see you again,' he answered.

'Oh don't talk such nonsense,' Arthur shook his head, 'I'll come visit you whenever I can.'

'Visit me where though?' Peter frowned at his brother, 'I don't got a home anymore.'

'We'll find somewhere for you,' Arthur assured him, 'I'll get you a job somewhere or some lodgings or summing. We still have a week before I leave for Southampton.'

'Just don't put me in no workhouse, promise?' Peter stared pleadingly at his brother.

'Heavens no!' cried Arthur, pulling the boy into a tight hug, 'I'd never do such a thing. In fact, I'd sooner smuggle you onto the ship with me than send you there. What gave you that idea, silly?'

'I 'eard some of them other boys talking about how 'orrible the work'ouse is and it sounds scary,' Peter sniffed, burying his face in his brother's jacket.

'Hey don't get snot all over my coat,' chided Arthur jokingly.

'Sorry…' Peter popped a chip into his mouth and chewed slowly, 'wot you need to go to Brazil for anyway? I mean, none of your business going and gettin' a load of magic beans.'

'Rubber seeds!' corrected Arthur, laughing, 'they're for growing in Kew to be transported to India and Malaysia to grow into rubber plants!'

'Why?'

'To make rubber,' explained Arthur, 'for making things.'

'Wozzat gotta do with you?'

'I am part of the crew that transports it to all these places,' continued Arthur, 'it's a real honour to be part of such an important voyage, even if it's as a cabin boy.'

''Ow come they asked you to do it?' Peter raised a bushy eyebrow suspiciously.

'Well they had a vacancy and I signed up,' Arthur shrugged, 'apparently half the crew caught some deadly disease and they need more men to replace those who died.'

Peter gulped, 'is it… dangerous? To be a sailor, I mean.'

'Yes,' admitted Arthur, 'the sea is filled with danger and all sorts of horrible things. But never fear; I'll be just fine.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

'Maybe I could come too,' suggested Peter, 'I'd protect you!'

'Good grief! There's no way I'll allow a little boy to be in such a dangerous environment,' Arthur wrinkled his nose, 'maybe when you're older. There's a whole word out there for you to explore, but not now. Right now we need to get you a safe job on land. I'm sure you won't mind, right?'

'Okay,' Peter nodded, 'but I'm goin' outta sea one day!'

'I don't doubt that,' Arthur chuckled, 'now hurry up and eat your chips before they get cold.'

…

Wow it's been a while since I updated this, right? Oh, sorry if all my stories seem to be a little slow lately, but I have exams until Tuesday and need to revise. But after that updates for everything should be frequent.


	6. Goodbye, Arthur

_One week later._

'I'm sorry Peter,' Arthur sighed, taking his little brother's hand as the two wandered through narrow, dingy streets, avoiding puddles left by the earlier rain, 'I really thought I'd have somewhere for you by now. That's why I promised the landlord we'd be out today,' he shook his head, 'I've only one night left and I'm nowhere near finding you a job and a home.' The sun was already behind the buildings as they walked and it was almost time for Arthur to catch the late night train to the coast.

'It's fine,' Peter adjusted his bag, which contained the few things he owned: spare clothes, a cracked teacup, a scrap of iron, a homemade doll, a blanket and the small wooden boat Lars had dropped years ago, chipped paint and covered in teeth marks now, and rubbed his nose, which was runny from a cold, 'we'll sleep outside then; it'll be an adventure.'

'No we bloody won't,' exclaimed Arthur, 'as much as I dislike the man, and as dangerous living in a tailor's is, I'll have to ask Francis to take you in for a while. It won't be so bad, I promise, his sisters will look after you and you'll never be short of new clothes.'

'Okay,' Peter looked around to find shops either side of him; so they were nearly there then. He would soon be parted from Arthur for what could be forever. Still, he admired Francis and his sisters, and staying with them would definitely improve his quality of life, but he would miss his brother, the only one who hadn't already left him behind.

'I understand making clothes is pretty boring,' admitted Arthur, 'and hard on your fingers, but maybe Francis could find you a new job, or send you to school. Would you like that, Peter? …Peter?' Arthur turned around to find Peter a few metres back staring into a shop window, hands and face pressed against the glass.

'Peter listen to me when I'm talking to you,' Arthur joined his brother and found the boy was looking through a toy shop window at the displays there. He glanced up at the sign above the door, which said 'Tino and Berwald's toyshop' in bright blue letters against a painted red background.

'Look! They have boats!' Peter pointed excitedly, 'can we go inside, please? I won't ask for nuffin, cause they look all pricey like. I just wanna look at them for a bit.'

'Well I don't see the harm in that,' Arthur pushed open the front door and Peter rushed inside. Arthur hoped the owners wouldn't mind too much; it was pretty late and it was likely they were just closing up for the night, probably not expecting any more customers.

He found the boy poking at the collection of wooden ships and shook his head, chuckling, 'no touching, Peter, remember.'

'Oh it's no problem at all,' a young man, whom Arthur presumed was the owner, walked over to him, 'toys are for playing with, after all.'

'You don't mind?' asked Arthur.

'Not one bit,'

'Yay!' Peter cheered, picking up a ship, adjusting the little sails, placing it on the floor and moving it around, pretending it was a real ship at sea, 'are you going in a wooden boat too?'

'No, Christ no,' exclaimed Arthur, 'I'll be in a steel ship.'

'Can it float?'

'I should hope so,' joked Arthur, 'it will, don't worry.'

'What's this?' asked the salesman.

'Oh, I'm off to Southampton tomorrow to join a merchant crew,' explained Arthur.

'The boy too?'

'No no,' Arthur sighed, 'to be honest I'm not sure what I'm going to do about him. Peter needs somewhere to stay while I'm at sea.'

Just then, they heard a snapping sound came from behind them and Arthur men turned to find that Peter had broken the mast of the little ship off.

'Sorry,' he whispered.

'Berwald!' cried the salesman, rushing into the back room.

'Oh shit, time to go Peter,' Arthur scooped up his brother, dumped the boat on a shelf and made for the door. Before they could make their escape, the salesman and another fella, a tall, scary-looking man, appeared.

'Woah, where are you going?' asked the salesman, 'we want to help you.'

'Pardon?' Arthur turned around and raised an eyebrow.

'If you need somewhere for the child to stay,' continued the salesman, 'he could have a room here and work in the shop if you want. I'm sure a young boy wouldn't object to living in a toy shop.'

'Really?' Arthur put Peter down on the ground and took a few steps towards them, 'why?'

'We need the extra help,' the salesman shrugged, 'this place has only been open a week and it's already becoming a bit too much.'

'If you say so,' Arthur turned to Peter, 'would you like to work here?'

'Yes please!' cried Peter, then his smile faded, 'but sir, I've broken your ship.' He picked the battered toy off the shelf and held it up, looking away in shame.

The second man knelt down and took it, smiling slightly and chuckling.

'S'fine,' he told Peter, 'jus' needs a bit o' glue.'

'Really?' asked Peter in awe.

'Really,' the man smiled.

'Oh, I'm Arthur Kirkland, by the way,' Arthur extended a hand and the salesman took it.

'Tino Väinämöinen,' he replied, 'and this is Berwald Oxenstierna.'

'And I'm Peter Kirkland!' cried the little boy.

'What a nice name,' Tino chuckled, 'so, I guess we should get you settled in. You'll be sharing a room with our son, Lars, but he's asleep at the moment and it wouldn't be best to disturb him. Will the settee do for tonight?'

'That's fine,' replied Arthur, 'wait, you have a son?'

'Yes, a little younger than yours,' said Tino, 'it'll be nice for him to have a friend.'

'I want a friend too!' cried Peter, 'don't have any.'

'Well I'm sure ye'll get along,' said Berwald, standing up, 'err, Arthur, h've we met b'fore? Y'look familiar.'

'Now that I come to think of it,' Arthur rubbed his chin, 'we met in a pub, didn't we?'

'Yes, how are your other s'blings?' asked Berwald.

'Gone up north,' Arthur shrugged, 'got jobs up there.'

'I see,'

Just then, Peter gave a loud yawn and Arthur chuckled, 'time for bed, little chap.'

'But why?' whined Peter.

'Because it's late and you have a big day tomorrow,' Tino told him, 'you'll need to learn how to run a shop with us.'

'Okay,' Peter began trudging up the stairs. Arthur silently followed him, after Tino provided directions to the sitting room, to say goodnight and goodbye.

'Well,' said Tino, breaking the silence, 'it seems we have a new addition to the family.'

'Hn,'

'I guess tomorrow we'll have to go out and get him some clothes,' continued Tino, 'those, well, rags he's wearing won't protect him from the weather and Lars needs a new jumper.'

'Hn,'

'Another kid,' Tino scratched his head, 'I think this'll be fun,'

…

'Can you sing me that song our siblings used to sing to get me to sleep at night?' Berwald overheard Peter ask his brother as the older tucked him into his bed on the sofa.

'Of course,' he heard Arthur reply, 'there's always time for another song.'

Berwald lingered in the hallway, curious about what the young man was about to sing.

'_In Dublin's fair city,_

_Where the girls are so pretty,_

_I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,_

_As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,_

_Through streets broad and narrow_…' Arthur's voice was soft and the man was able to drag the notes out. Berwald thought his voice sounded nice, but was more captivated by the lyrics. He couldn't help but picture Tino, pushing his wheelbarrow through the crowded streets, shouting to catch people's attention. Of course, the song was about a girl who sold seafood in Ireland, but that was where the differences stopped.

'…_For so were her father and mother before,_

_And they each wheeled their barrow,_

_Through streets broad and narrow,_

_Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!_'

Not for the first time, Berwald wondered about Tino's family. Were they street-sellers too? He wanted to learn this song, and sing it when he worked.

'_She died of a fever,_

_And no one could save her,_

_And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone._

_Now her ghost wheels her barrow,_

_Through streets broad and narrow,' _Arthur launched into the chorus once more but Berwald wasn't listening anymore. The song didn't seem as sweet anymore, and Berwald shook his head, wandering upstairs. He checked up on Tino, making sure he was okay and went into his own room, feeling he was becoming a little too paranoid. Tino was fine; songs weren't reality.

'I have t' stop caring too much about Tino,' he muttered, knowing that just wasn't possible, crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

…

Hey look I'm updating this regularly! *Feels proud*

Well I have a bit more time for writing now my exams are over so expect more updates… until Monday then a have to go back to school.

So, the song included in this chapter is Molly Malone, which was first documented in 1883 (a year before this chapter's set) and is the anthem to Dublin. I have to emphasize that I do not own the song.

I've been listening to a lot of old folk songs that remind or inspire me when it comes to this story. If you want to get a better picture of the characters lives, you might want to check out the songs _Dirty old town_ and _Streets of London_.

Hey would anyone consider doing a fic-trade with me? Like, I'll write a one shot about a character or pairing of your choice and vice versa? I promise it won't be based on a miserable folk song!


	7. Drying blood

_1879 Malmo _

…

'_Get out!'_

'_And never come back!'_

'_We hate you!'_

'_You're wrong!'_

'_You're not our son!'_

'_Or our brother!'_

'_Wait, what are you doing?'_

'_Put Emil back!'_

'_Where are you taking him?'_

Aleksander flinched at the memories, causing another wave of pain to stab through his head, where a jagged rock had hit it. It wasn't too deep and the blood had long dried, but every now and then it would sting, just to let him know it was still there. The wound his own brother gave him was still there. He lifted his hand, fingers brushing against the scab slowly forming there, staining them red.

'Hey don't touch it,' Mathias soothed, 'it'll only make it worse.' Emil shifted in his arms, the seven year old was staring evenly at Aleksander, his older brother and the man who'd suddenly taken him from the only home he'd known. Aleksander was fondest of his youngest brother and couldn't stand the idea of leaving him with two people so full of hate. Besides, they had six other sons; surely they wouldn't miss one small one.

'I know, I know,' Aleksander lowered his hand, 'not much farther now, I promise.' It was evening now and they were walking through streets lined with neat little houses, trying to reach their destination before dark.

'Great because the little one's getting heavy,' Mathias ruffled Emil's hair playfully, 'not that I mind too much. You stop minding when it's your child.'

'What?' spluttered Aleks.

'Well, we're going to be raising him from now on, right?' Mathias shrugged, 'I thought little Emil would be like a son to us.'

'I'd rather see him as my brother,' Aleks couldn't help but chuckle, 'but do whatever you want.'

'Great,' Mathias flashed a wide grin, 'I've always wanted a little boy to take care of and read stories to and take fishing. Would you like to go fishing with me sometime?' he asked Emil.

'No,' Emil stuck out his tongue.

Mathias just laughed, 'what an adorable child!'

'Ah, here we are,' Aleks stopped in front of a large house, 'I'm pretty sure this is where Dr Oxenstierna lives.'

'Oxenstierna?' Mathias raised an eyebrow, 'wasn't he the tall Swedish man who used to live with us and take the piss out of me all the time?'

'Yes, his parents are doctors here,' Aleks walked up the steps of the house to the front door and knocked sharply, 'they're the only people here that I trust to get me fixed up.'

A few moments later the door was answered by a stern-looking middle-aged man, who glanced at Aleksander, nodded and let the trio in. They walked into the front room, where a surgical table and bookshelves full of books on medicine and little glass bottles sat waiting to be used. There were surgical equipment resting on a tray in the corner too.

'Take a seat,' said the man Mathias assumed to be Dr Oxenstierna, due to his likeness to a certain young Berwald. Aleksander obeyed and sat on the table. Dr Oxenstierna immediately began to inspect the wound and clear away the dirt and dried blood.

Emil grew restless and Mathias decided to explore the house and poke around at Berwald's old home. He wandered into the hall then into the dining room and over to the fireplace, Emil following behind. There were a few ornaments but what caught Mathias' attention was a blurred, framed photo of a family of four: two adults and two children, twins. The boy had a serious expression and a mop of short, chopped blond hair and Mathias immediately recognised him as being a younger Berwald, around twelve or so in the picture. The girl next to him had the same colour hair and sea-blue eyes behind wire glasses. So this must be the sister he'd heard so much about.

'They looked so cute as children, yes?'

Mathias wheeled round to find a middle-aged woman standing across the room smiling. He also recognised her from the photo and guessed was Berwald's mother.

'So you are one of my son's friends?' she asked.

Mathias nodded, 'um, yes, my name is Mathias Kohler-'

'I know who you are,' Mrs Oxenstierna chuckled, 'are there you are young Emil,' she added, looking at the boy, who was hiding behind Mathias but came running over to her and gave her a hug, 'hello little one.'

'Ulloh,' mumbled Emil, 'are you taking me back to my mummy and daddy or do I have to stay with Aleks?'

Mrs Oxenstierna looked questioningly at Mathias, who flinched.

'We- err- ran into a bit of bother with Aleksander's parents and had to cut our trip short; we decided it was best to take Emil with us. Aleks got hurt and the doctor's patching him up right now; that's why we're here,' Mathias decided not to mention that he'd accidently let slip over dinner that him and Aleksander were in a relationship, and that was why they'd been forced to leave. Mathias knew that, until the day he died, he'd never get rid of the guilt he felt for his mistake. Aleksander had wanted a nice trip back home to show him off to his parents (not as a partner, but as a friend), see his little brothers and catch up with all his old friends. But now he was being treated for a head injury and they would have to cut their trip short. Aleksander would probably never be able to see his parents again. All of this was his fault.

'I see,' Mathias was grateful that Mrs Oxenstierna didn't press any further.

'So where is Berwald's sister?' Mathias asked, 'I'd like to meet her sometime. I bet Astrid is a lot better company than old Waldy.'

A look of sadness graced Mrs Oxenstierna's face and she shook her head, 'died last year, carriage accident. Berwald took her baby son with him to London. I guess he didn't want to be around things that reminded him of her, apart form the boy, of course. The pair were really close as children and her death hit him hard, hit all of us hard.'

'Oh, I'm so sorry to hear,' Mathias picked up Emil and stroked the boy's hair.

'The three of you are welcome to stay the night,' Mrs Oxenstierna offered, 'after all, it's late and a doubt you will be able to get a boat back home.'

'Thank you,' Mathias smiled then turned his attention to Emil, inspecting the boy closely.

He was a pretty bony child, Mathias realised, probably due to having seven brothers and not much food to go around. He decided there and then to provide everything Emil would need, so he would never be hungry or upset for one moment in his life. He thought about Berwald, and how he was also facing the challenge of raising a child, far away in London, and how, despite their differences, the two of them were united by this need to make a small, helpless life happy. Maybe he'd underestimated his tall, scary friend.

…

Yeah I know, short chapter. I want to use this fic to cover a few chapters from the other characters in RD's lives. I'll probably do a few more like this every now and again. This chapter was also to give an insight into Berwald's life and family.


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